There are certainly moments of huge elegance and even dancefloor nirvana here, but the rigidity seems to stifle some of the magic in comparison to the album’s predecessor.

Lanza, the antithesis of the ululating, overwrought antics of the X Factor school, has an arsenal of talents that puts her in a league of her own. She’s very much for real.

While Under The Sun isn’t quite as strong as its monumental predecessor ‘76:14’, Pritchard still has an eye for coaxing out the astoundingly beautiful from ‘cold’ electronics.

Every track here reveals new depths on repeat plays. The year’s first essential comp? You guessed correctly.

Honey is an energetic and youthful love letter to Katy B’s clubbing roots.

Easy listening it isn’t, but from the barest of palettes, Kowton has built something with personality and raw power.

It’s an album that’s a handy reminder of how inseparable weirdo experimentalism is from the badass mainstream in hip hop.

With everything lathered in exquisite, 90s-sounding euphoria, the duo prove to be irresistible, once again.

The debut album from mysterious group Babyfather features bucketloads of frontman Dean Blunt’s devilish humour. But like all the best satire, it’s also steeped in grit and realness.

Here, he’s created an ultra-coherent, often beautiful and (despite it originally being ‘just’ background music) oddly personal statement.

It's hard not to get emotional. Cavernous drums and multi-layered vocals characterise 'Open Your Eyes', which has the ambitious sweep of classic 80s pop (think Berlin) and, with glacial, droning chords and Deheza's quivering, velvety vocals, the beatless 'Confusion' may well reduce you to mush.

The whole album drips with Caribbean zest, the tropical bounce of 'Can't Get Enough Of Myself' and the pumping 'Rendezvous Girl' balanced by eccentric slowies such as the oddball power ballad 'Run The Races'. There's plenty more too, candied but with class and pop bite.

This is Matmos doing what they do best: taking a strange idea for a wild digital ride until it turns into something completely magical.

Like his pioneering UK heroes, this hour-long LP works best lost in the moment with your ears nestled between a pair of good speakers and your head in the clouds.

All in all, an impressive album.

It's an LP as heart-warming and engaging as the story behind it.

It all adds up to their most rounded, consistently engaging record yet.

A total contrast to 'Banquet' and 'Two More Years', die-hard fans may need to give it a few spins, but in daring to reinvent themselves, Bloc Party show an impressive evolution.

The chemistry between Agius and Redway is palpable.

Fans of Haxan Cloak's loud/quiet drama and Rabit's fearless extremes will want to crack open yet another great Tri Angle long player, which is intense at times ('Mass') and brooding at others ('High Places').

He's hijacked techno, destroyed its propulsion, and created something intriguingly spaced out.

There are echoes of recognisable genres here, but the overwhelming sense is of a burned-out mind, muttering freaky things to itself, as sounds fizzle and char around it. Yet somehow, as the rhythms chatter, vocoders sing hymns to deviant gods and the synths melt, it sounds like something you want to get involved with.

Bratten's sound is somewhere in-between classic Trentemøller and BOC's campfire melodies. By your third listen, you'll be hooked.

The release date really doesn't matter: this is an absolute stunner of an album from start to finish.

It's on the 'Disco Queen' side that Thorn's voice really shines through, with both Geist's mix of 'Why Does The Wind' and Escort's extended remix of 'It's All True' being as good as anything Todd Terry did to EBTG back in the 90s.

Nothing finds beauty in exploring dreams of a human-free world. Kode9's strength has always been to show that serious scholarship and avant-garde instinct don't need to separate from dancefloor culture and here, he's made one of his clearest statements of that yet.

Eleania demands focus, too, but pay attention to it and you'll be rewarded.

There are a few tear-out moments (see the unhinged 'Black Gates' and the volatile 'Burnerz'), but the biggest rewards come from more alien and introspective moments such as 'Glass Harp Interlude'.

With production help from Four Tet and Adrian Sherwood, he raps tenaciously over dark beats.

Heartfelt lullabies backed by rich instrumentation make for a promising enough first half that leads to the dour title track. From here, razor-blade distortion, crashing cymbals and mournful torment combine to create a tough listen, before respite eventually comes in the form of an exhausted outro.

We The Generation is full of catchy, radio-friendly earworms tailor-made for maximum impact at their blistering live performances.

Snoop Dogg, André 3000, Mos Def and Skepta are all fans, with this assured debut proving why she's rated so highly. Better prepare that throne, then.

On 'Franks Kaktus' they squeal and screech against skirls of powerful blues strumming and thumping congas; things calm down on 'Flickor Och Pojkar' ('boys and girls' in Swedish), whose vibes and languid bass recall classic Air.

When Nils Frahm curates a Late Night Tales installment, expectations are high. Does he deliver? Of course he does.

Big and bold with smart production touches and melodies to match, this is an album destined for stadiums.

An LP of grown-up electronica that--like John Grant's 'Pale Green Ghosts'--boasts song-writing with serious crossover potential.

An album of outstanding pop, shuddering dance-rock and intricate electronic moods.

Despite its length, it's not pushing any boundaries: it's smooth and sweet, with nothing to give you nightmares, but as a piece of high-class chillout music, it works very well.

Versions sees the Idjuts bring new life to a collection of sprawling, dubby disco from the vaults.

The whole thing smells of fresh-cut grass and warm... well, Air. The likes of Erol Alkan, Rory Philips and other first-generation 'Moon' explorers will adore it.

It may sound dark, cold, gothic and rough around the edges compared to software-produced music, but these sounds have proved over the decades that they will set your synapses alight with delight.

A comforting throb fills the album, an electronic heartbeat that soundtracks the swirling, arpeggiated ambience of Hippies, or the trippy acid-techno of 'Stop' with its spitting hi-hats and skirls of cathedral organ.

The squelchy synths and intergalactic funk of the record's first half stand tall, but at 20 tracks long, it becomes a tad tiresome at the halfway mark.

Sure, it might be the same old names working within the confines of their signature sounds, but Total 15 presents Kompakt's current roster in vintage form.

This is a hot, sweaty but very beautiful dream of a record.

With only six new songs (and just seven tracks in total), it could have been a longer trip.

Comparisons to Moodymann, Dilla and Theo Parrish have been forthcoming, but Davis Jr's vista spreads wider.

A bloody good album, showcasing a decidedly more soulful side to his output than we might have seen before.

The operatic IDM of the previously released 'Mountain Divide' is hard not to view as the pick, but even so, Tundra still has all the sonic intensity of an R&S classic.

You get gold-plated productions that will stand the test of time.

It may not be as groundbreaking as Kölsch's debut album, but it still hits all the right notes. Fans will be chuffed to bits with this.

It's the instrumentals that impress the most.

More than a simple change in direction, this debut album feels like the culmination of pretty much everything he's done up to this point in his career.

Hairless Toys is outstanding, all elegant deep house offset by country-flecked soul and idiosyncratic downtempo.

With total belief in their worth, they re-introduce stylings seldom seen on contemporary dance albums, where mood and atmosphere too often trump melody and songcraft.

Sometimes it's slick, sometimes it's heartbreaking, but it definitely sounds like it'll suit a festival scenario with lasers on lock... and it's definitely the sound of an artist finding themselves.

There might be doses of dancefloor energy through the Balearic string twangs of 'All I Want' and the pulsating, springy pads of Insides, but it’s definitely the dreamy, mind-expanding cuts that take precedent.

As culturally diverse as it all is, it’s the tonal depth of the assembly that creates an engaging synergy.

Xen is decidedly playful, its alien sound palette used to conjure surreal songs that are melodramatic and nursery rhyme-like.

The less fluffy tunes are the best: ‘Elevate’ and ‘Go All Night’ both have old-skool house elements and a jacking groove that mean there’s more to this LP than a collection of festival sing-alongs.

Groundbreaking it may not be, but Huxley brings a touch more class than some of his contemporaries.

If you’re looking for a new album with real depth to play on repeat, with horns, pianos and cowbells to spare, this is it.

It’s another LP from the Londoner exploring sense, sexuality and seduction, picking up where her 2012 debut ‘Playin’ Me’ left off.

There are some excellent tracks here--‘Lights On’, ‘Two Weeks’, ‘Pendulum’--and her talent is obvious, but the men at the production desk could perhaps have been braver.

Danceable, intelligent and always emotionally charged--and Dan Snaith’s most profound and accomplished piece of work to date.

It has none of the deliberate pratfalls or raspberries he’s prone to. Rather, it’s entirely welcoming.

It’s the surge of creativity from the US that’s making for delicious new music indeed.

It’s an altogether different beast: a gigantic, wondrous thing to get lost in.

He’s not lost any of his individuality, with the same rich layering, eerie but enticing voices and general sense of five-dimensional spiritual uplift that ‘Outmind’ had.

Their fourth mix offers a vivid explanation of their enduring popularity.

He throws minute snippets of deep soul, techno, funk, liquid acid, Kraftwerk, Eurythmics, cosmic jazz and more into his blender, chops them into freaky, twitchy rhythms and underpins them with monumental bass--and it is amazing.

The only trouble is, it all feels a little... dated.

It’s easy to pick out highlights, but every single one delivers something different and equally fantastic.

It’s absolutely breathtaking in its audacity and intergalactic ambition, and even breathtakingly beautiful in places. But... it’s bloody tiring too.

Lone tunes are nothing if not growers--but there’s no question that this is one of our best artists on the form of his life.

Sometimes great, often fun, but mostly quite confused, it’s not a focused LP--though it’s certainly an expression of the oddness of 2014.

Viewed as a showcase of reinvention The Feast Of The Broken Heart is a success. Judged as a cohesive album, it’s far tighter than their previous long-player and repeat listens do indeed find new, exciting depths and melodies at play.

"If in doubt, smile and dance" is the agenda.

If you stop trying to hear it as grime, and listen to it as a sci-fi movie of an album, a classy electronica dream journey through a high tech Orient, then that gloss becomes a strength, and it really does stand up on its own.

OK, it can be a bit tiring at times, but if you’re feeling open minded enough, this is a fluid, super-charged masterpiece.

Glow is an epic achievement, an album that bolsters its disco-flecked gems with 80s funk, Euro synth-pop and chunky 90s house tropes.

He’s a soundboy at heart, so you’ll hear bass-propelled elements at play (dewy jungle breaks, grimey synth stabs, low-end bumps, the no-bullshit patter of MC DRS), but ‘Presents James Grieve’ is all about exhilarating propulsion and the power of drums.

There are some moments of absolute beauty here but all too often the vocalists don’t bring the character of a Horace Andy or Tracey Thorn (or indeed 3D or Daddy G), and overall it all feels a bit slick.

Opener ‘Miami Theme’ sets the tone, Erika Janunger’s voice floating over brooding piano chords, like a Lynchian club scene.

It’s as beguiling and bewitching as you’d expect.

This is some of Willner’s most enriching and captivating work yet.

There’s something about CEO’s second album that’s so wide-eyed, so full of wonder that even when it approaches absolute sugar overload it’s impossible to dislike.

With no twee gimmicks, vibrant colour and bold substance are present in spades, resulting in an album that’s nothing short of a masterclass in left-of-centre dance music.

Little Red’s desire to tread new ground is admirable and, in principle, the idea of Katy going head-to-head with US r’n’b singers is great, but the quality is simply not as dynamic, hook-laden or convincing as the first five songs.

Get ready for shimmering, disco-dipped house and digital soul, long German titles and impish unconventionality.

A texturally rugged selection with plenty of technical dexterity along the way maintains a bumping tempo--in turn, completing a solid trio of mixes themed around one of the Capital’s leading residencies.

During the more hurtling crescendos the arrangement gets a little cluttered and abrasive, but on the whole, Walking Lines is a notable addition to the shoegaze category.

[Ron Morelli] actively dislikes clubs--but he’s managing to infiltrate them with this insurgent electronic music.

Still puzzling, but for the most part very lovely.

Effectively present(ish), past and downtempo, it’s a fascinating glimpse into one of dance’s most fertile minds.

A vastly resourceful and well-structured opus by a true master of horizontal stylings.

Eve is no ground-breaker, but Booka Shade’s solid reputation remains safe.

The way it evolves is engrossing; from the get-go you’re submerged in thunderous kicks, alarming bleeps and juddering basslines, and what makes it even more impressive is that much of it was created on the fly.